Undiminished
by randommonks
Summary: The temptation of an ancient spell convinces Voldemort to seek the help of an unlikely source- Hermione Granger.
1. Chapter 1: Blackmailed

Chapter 1: Blackmailed

Hermione Granger glanced over her list, mentally checking off each task she needed to perform before heading off to the Burrow.

_Perform undetectable extension charm on bag_. Check.

_Pack warm clothing for cold winter nights_. Check.

_Pack first aid kit_. Check_._

_Pack dittany for more serious wounds. _Check.

_Pack two sets of tents for travelling_. Check.

_Pack all necessary books for research and quiet reading. _Check.

_Pack money._ Check.

_Perform false memory charm on parents._

She had been struggling with the last part of her checklist for days, agonizing over the details. She had arranged for their flight to Australia, the last place she believed Voldemort would look if he decided to target them. She had performed enchantments on their passports and other forms of identification to create the story that they were Wendell and Monica Wilkins. The last part of her plan involved erasing every detail of her from their memories and confounding them into believing they were Wendell and Monica.

She reached for a photo on her nightstand, taken last year shortly after she had gotten home from her sixth year at Hogwarts. They had taken her on a surprise vacation to cruise the Bahamas, and were standing on the deck of their boat. Her dad was sporting a ridiculously floral shirt and her mom was laughing in a long sundress. Her eyes teared up as she shoved it into her bag as well.

Hermione picked up her wand and, after several deep breaths, made her way out of her room.

"Mom? Dad?" she shouted down the stairs. "Could you guys come up here a minute? There's something I want to show you."

She listened down the stairs, furrowing her brow when she heard no sounds. Her mother should have been preparing dinner by now, her father watching the evening news.

She called after them again, hesitantly making her way down the stairs. The living room was empty, the television off but her father's cup of tea still sat on the coffee table. She put her palm against the ceramic. Still warm. She gripped her wand tighter. Something was amiss.

As she rounded the kitchen, she felt her blood freeze. Her parents were huddled together at the kitchen table, surrounded by Death Eaters in full regalia.

"Hermione!" her mother shouted as she stood, frozen in shock. A Death Eater immediately raised his wand, and a long cut appeared on her mother's cheek, which immediately began to drip blood.

"Mom!" Hermione shouted, rushing forward. She was halted by another Death Eater pointing his wand at her head.

"What do you want?" she asked them, desperately.

"The Dark Lord requires your assistance in a matter that is of special importance to him," a familiar voice drawled.

"Professor Snape?" she inquired, dumbfounded. "Please tell them to stop!"

"They are here on my orders and have been told to act accordingly," he said, pulling off his mask and smirking down at her. "Be glad that your cooperation is important enough to be keeping them alive, silly girl."

He pulled a worn book out of his robes and placed it on the table.

"Sit," he ordered sharply, pulling out the chair across from her father.

Shaking, Hermione gingerly perched herself on it, and eyed the book nervously.

"_Hogwarts: A History_?" she read, surprised. "You did all this to give me a book?"

"Not just any book, Miss Granger," Snape murmured. "I thought you were smarter than that. Look again."

Hermione stroked her fingers across the cover and gently opened it. Its contents were hand written in small, loopy script, and its pages stained and stiff.

"It's a first edition," she whispered.

"Not just a first edition," Snape replied. "_The_ first _Hogwarts: A History_ ever created, hand-written by Bathilda Bagshot herself. I would like you to turn to Chapter 3, and read aloud for everyone what is written in the first few pages."

"_Chapter 3: The Repopulation Efforts_," Hermione read shakily. "_After the effects of the plague had made itself known, the population of the wizarding community throughout Great Britain had been decimated to less than a quarter of what it had been previously. The surviving leaders throughout the country met, deciding to task the four greatest living witches and wizards of the time with the creation of a plan to restore the wizarding numbers to its previous glory._

"_After much brainstorming and experimenting, Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Helga Hufflepuff, and Rowena Ravenclaw delivered a spell, a charm, or a potion (sources disagree on the exact measure of magic) that achieved the incredible task of transforming Muggles into a full-fledged wizard or witch. The first to receive this treatment, purported a relative of Ravenclaw herself, was closely observed for a year's time, in which they proved to be comparable to any true-born magical person. The procedure was then performed on a larger pool of Muggles, who either volunteered themselves or were coerced into the task. Most subjects took well to the transformation, although there were reports of some Muggles rejecting the magic outright or regressing to their Muggle forms after a few weeks._

"_After a time, as the population of newly made witches and wizards rose, the four decided that an institution was required to teach them about their new powers. Thus, Hogwarts, in its most primitive form, was founded. Each founder taught students in different manners and it wasn't long before they were hand selecting their apprentices for traits that each founder valued. Gryffindor selected students that had previously been Muggle knights and warriors; Hufflepuff selected students that had previously been Muggle caretakers and farmers; Ravenclaw selected students that had previously been Muggle scholars and thinkers. Slytherin, however, was the most selective of his students. He eventually began rejecting all Muggle-born wizards and witches, instead preferring to teach only those that he considered of pure blood. _

_As their student body grew, the founding four built up Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. At first, it started small. Each founder had his or her own wing of a complex of small huts, which eventually grew into the Hogwarts castle known today over several decades. _

_The exact nature of the spell has been lost to the ages, perhaps due to the actions of Salazar Slytherin himself. It was rumored that this particular magic was what caused the rift between Slytherin and the other founders, up to the point that Slytherin was either expelled from or chose to depart the school._

"_To this day, no wizard or witch has any knowledge of the spell or recipe that the founders created. It is said, however, that Slytherin left clues to the magic's origins in Hogwarts itself, possibly in the legendary Chamber of Secrets itself."_

"Harry's already been in the Chamber of Secrets," Hermione said, rather hoarse after reading the chapter aloud. "I don't know what you want with me."

"The Dark Lord himself has opened the Chamber twice," Snape stated slowly. "He has a keen interest in discovering this spell or potion. We have already experimented on several Muggles to attempt to turn them, and they've had…well, let's just say, varied results. Most have ended up dead- if they were lucky."

The group around Snape chuckled, and Hermione's feeling of dread only deepened.

"Oh that reminds me, I haven't fed Noseless yet," a deep, gravelly voiced Death Eater said. The laughter intensified.

"Quiet, fool," Snape hissed. "The Dark Lord said to stay silent."

"Is that why you want my parents?" Hermione asked, never taking her eyes off of Snape.

"We could care less about your parents, foolish girl," he replied, waving his hand dismissively. "Although we will be taking them into our custody until you fulfill the task the Dark Lord has entrusted to you."

"What would that be, exactly?" Hermione inquired reluctantly.

"Find the spell or recipe," was the simple response.

"How? I can't get into the Chamber of Secrets."

"As I stated before, the Dark Lord has been to the Chamber but believes that the clues are not in the Chamber itself," Snape said. "The Dark Lord cares not how you go about your investigation, but if you ever want to see your parents alive again, I recommend you make haste."

"Where will you take them?"

"That is not your concern, Mudblood," one of the Death Eaters spat at her. "Just be thankful the Dark Lord has chosen to spare them."

"And you won't hurt them if I agree to do this for you?" Hermione questioned.

"They will live, that is all I can promise," Snape said.

Hermione's eyes became clouded with tears as she looked toward her parents. Her mother still held a paper napkin to the cut on her cheek. Her dad was pale and sweating profusely, but had both arms around his wife's shoulders.

"Alright," she agreed. "I'll do it."

"I thought you would, Miss Granger," Snape said with a small smile. "I'll be keeping an eye on you, make no mistake."

Snape nodded to the other Death Eaters, who forcibly lifted Mr. and Mrs. Granger by their arms and started to muscle them out of the house.

"Don't worry about us, honey!" Mr. Granger shouted back to Hermione.

"We love you!" Mrs. Granger cried in turn before, with a faint pop, they disappeared from sight.

Snape also turned to leave, but paused before he reached the front door.

"Oh, and Miss Granger," he added. "This shouldn't need to be said, but not a word to Potter or Weasley."

Harry and Ron. She hadn't even thought what she was going to tell them. They had not planned on going back to Hogwarts for their final year. How was she supposed to tell them that they would have to go without her? How was she supposed to survive at Hogwarts without them?

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thanks so much for reading! Reviews and input on this would be greatly appreciated! This story may or may not follow canon aspects of the original Harry Potter by JK Rowling, so if something deviates from the norm, it's intentional!


	2. Chapter 2: Bittersweet

Chapter 2: Bittersweet

Hermione sank back into her chair as Snape exited her house and released a sigh when she heard the telling pop as he Disapparated. She picked up the worn book, rereading the section on the Muggle spell.

_This wasn't in any subsequent copies of _Hogwarts: A History, she thought. _Why had it been taken out?_

She flipped through the rest of the book, noting that there were several minor passages that had been struck out as well, although none as important as the chapter on the after effects of the plague. It seemed that someone or something had convinced Bathilda to remove this particular chapter. This was the first time that she had read something referencing a plague or illness that had decimated the wizarding population. She had read Muggle history books that spoke of a black plague. Could it have the same effect on wizards as it had Muggles?

Hermione was unaware of how long she sat at her kitchen table, but the rising sun startled her out of her thoughts. She had managed to read halfway through the ancient book and yet, the third chapter was the only discrepancy she detected from the modern publishing. She mechanically went through the motions of making herself scrambled eggs and toast and pouring a glass of orange juice.

She arranged the meal neatly on the table before sitting down again, staring at it.

_Why was I born like this,_ she pondered, tears filling her eyes. _If I wasn't this way, my parents would still be happy and out of harm's way; they'd be here right now, eating breakfast with me._

She abandoned her meal and picked up the book again, rereading for the third time about the forgotten spell. As she sat buried in her thoughts, unbeknownst to her, green flames shot out of her fireplace and a rather dusty pair leapt out into the living room.

"Hermione!" the red headed one bellowed, brushing ash off his shirt. "Where are you? Why is it so quiet in here?"

Hermione, startled, quickly dabbed at her face with a napkin, trying to wipe away an entire night of fatigue, loneliness, and despair. Realizing it was fruitless, she instead tapped her face with her wand to tidy herself up, and shouted back,

"Ron, I'm in the kitchen!"

"What're you doing in there?" he asked, clueless. "Why are you alone here? Where are your parents? Are those eggs?"

Smiling weakly, Hermione pushed the cold plate toward him, directing him on the proper use of the microwave when he found the lukewarm eggs repugnant. While Ron fussed over the appliance, she noticed Harry smiling at her from the kitchen doorway.

"Harry!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here? I thought we were coming to get you in a couple of days."

"There was actually a change of plans," he said grinning. "I've been living with the Weasleys for the last couple of months, while Mad-Eye's been living with the Dursleys, impersonating me. I must say that it's been hilarious picturing Dudley trying to deal with Mad-Eye while thinking it's me."

Hermione gave a light, nervous titter.

"What is it Harry?" she asked when she noticed him looking at her oddly.

"Is something wrong, Hermione?" he inquired. "You don't seem like yourself today."

Hermione's tired mind reeled as she grasped at an excuse.

"I had to send my parents to Australia," she blurted out.

"What? Why?" Ron asked around a mouthful of eggs.

"I felt that it was safer for them there with Voldemort and the Death Eaters after us," Hermione explained. "I changed their passports and modified their memories. They have no memory of me at all, and think that they are just a happy, Muggle couple who have lived in Australia their entire lives."

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," Harry said, giving Hermione a quick hug. "But we all would do whatever we could to keep those we love safe."

_You have no clue how right you are, _Hermione thought.

"Well, we're here to take you back to the Burrow," Ron announced as Hermione packed his dishes into the dishwasher.

"For what?" she asked, surprised.

"Bill and Fleur's wedding of course!" he answered. "Bloody hell, your mind has really abandoned you hasn't it?"

"Oh, of course," Hermione said sarcastically. "Because the only thing that's been on my mind all summer is the fabulous wedding that's taking place in the middle of this muck."

She stormed out of the room, muttering that she needed to grab her things from her room.

"Could you be any more tactless, Ron?" Harry sighed, rubbing the scar on his forehead.

"What?" was the intelligent reply.

An hour later, Hermione marched down the stairs with her magically enlarged handbag and Hogwarts trunk floating behind her.

"Ok let's go," she demanded. "How are we getting back to the Burrow?"

"Broomsticks," Harry replied. "We've brought invisibility potions that Mad-Eye gave us that should last a few hours and we're going to fly to Tonks' parents' house. We'll then take a Portkey back to the Burrow."

"Did you guys come here by Floo powder?" Hermione asked, puzzled. "I thought the networks were being watched?"

"The Aurors took care of it," Ron explained. "Harry and I had to bounce around fireplaces a few times to throw the monitors off our trail, but the Aurors let us know the minute they stopped tracking our progress. We can't do it again, though."

"Ok, what about my trunk?" Hermione asked, not seeing the harness they had used previously to transport larger items.

Harry picked up her truck by its handle and waved it effortlessly through the air a couple of times. Books and shoes tumbled around as he jostled its contents. He grinned weakly at Hermione when she glared at him, irritated at having her meticulous packing ruined.

"I'll just take it with me on my broom," he said sheepishly.

Huffing and again muttering under her breath, Hermione accepted the small glass vial from Ron.

_An Invisibility Brew?_ she thought. _He must have worked for months on this. It's nearly impossible to perfect, which is why most wizards use Disillusionment Charms._

"Be careful," Hermione warned. "Anything you touch with your skin will turn invisible once we drink this. I think we should take this outside if you don't want the house to disappear when we touch a doorknob."

"Right," Harry agreed. "Good thinking."

He pulled the trunk toward the door and they crowded into the small garden behind the house. Hermione nervously checked not only for her neighbors, but for Death Eaters. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was being closely watched.

"Hermione? Hello, is somebody home?" Ron's voice floated into her head, and she snapped out of her daze.

"Yeah, I just wanted to make sure that nobody was watching," she said. "It wouldn't sit well with the neighbors to not only have an entire household of people disappear overnight, but to see three teenagers vanish into thin air riding broomsticks either."

That made Harry and Ron laugh, and Hermione shared a brief chuckle with them, relieved to be back in the company of good friends. They mounted their brooms, and drank the potions. An icy chill flowed down her throat, and she turned to watch its effects on Ron. He looked confused as he stared around at the other two.

"I don't think it worked," he muttered. "Shouldn't we be seeing-"

"Ron, look down!" Harry ordered, wide eyed.

His stomach had disappeared and the rest of him soon followed as the potion made its way through his bloodstream. When his torso disappeared, he looked to be nothing but a pair of floating arms, legs, and a head. Curious, Hermione looked down at her own limbs, and was surprised to find that the potion seemed to be working much faster for her. Her arms had already disappeared up to her elbows and her legs were gone halfway down her thighs. She touched her stomach to make sure that she was still solid, and was relieved to still feel it there. She watched, fascinated, as the potion outlined the various veins and capillaries in her hand, before moving on to the muscle and skin. When she fully had vanished from sight, she looked up to check on Ron and Harry.

Harry was nothing more than a lightning scar and a dark mop of hair at that point, but Ron's head was still entirely visible and he was staring expectantly at his hands and feet, which were stubbornly resisting disappearing.

"Um, Hermione," he intoned, nervous. "Would this look suspicious flying through the sky or would the Muggles just chalk it up to another UFO encounter?"

Hermione laughed.

"Just get up and jump around a bit to get the blood moving," she advised, suppressing giggles of Ron's gangly hands and feet floating through the air.

When Ron stumbled off his broom and started jumping around waving his hands and feet, she and Harry fell off their brooms laughing, which was only intensified by the glare Ron shot their way. The brief exercise did the trick, however, and a few minutes later, they were all ready to depart.

Ron had attached a sky blue flag to the back of his broom, which Harry and Hermione followed. Hermione had never particularly enjoyed flying before, but she was relieved by the solitude it brought. She finally allowed herself to think of her parents and their kidnapping, the task that Voldemort has set upon her, and the revelation that this spell could bring to the rest of the wizarding world. It could explain Slytherin's obsession with pure blood, an obsession which carried over even to the modern world. Why did Voldemort want this spell to begin with; what good could it possibly do to him if he had a giant army of Muggle born wizards and witches?

She would find this spell; she had to- if not for Voldemort than for her parents. They were innocent of any wrong-doing and it had to be her first priority to free them. She had to tell Harry and Ron that she couldn't leave with them to wander aimlessly around the country to hunt Horcruxes. She would have to find some way to survive Hogwarts, a Hogwarts run under the auspices of Voldemort, alone. She shuddered from a combination of the chill from the high altitude air and trepidation.

_Pull yourself together Hermione,_ she mentally shook herself. _You're not going to help anyone if you just fall apart._

They descended an hour later and landed in a neat little garden behind a quaint house.

"Is someone there?" a voice shouted from inside the house.

"Don't answer," Harry's voice whispered. "They know we're coming but also know that we're not supposed to talk to anyone."

Harry grabbed Hermione's hand who reached for Ron's and they walked carefully to a small hill above the house. A tin can stood innocently on a rock, a small, lightning shape carved into the metal. They each poked a finger at it and waited, Ron looking anxiously at his watch.

"3…2…1-" he muttered, before they all felt the telltale pull of the Portkey. After banging shoulders for a time, the wind whistling past their chilled ears, the trio landed in the road outside of the Burrow. Hermione released a tense sigh; it was good to be back squarely in the wizarding world.

Nothing had changed in the ramshackle residence, from the chickens scratching for insects to the grubby garden gnomes peeking out from the unruly bushes.

"Was that the tin can?" Mrs. Weasley's voice floated from the backyard. "They should be here by now."

"We're here!" Ron shouted, throwing the can into a tree with a clunk. "We've gotten Hermione."

"Oh thank goodness," she trilled, bouncing from the rear of the house before stopping dead when she caught site of the road. "Where are you three?"

"Boo!" Ron's voice shouted from right beside her. She jumped backward, pulling out her wand and releasing a spell that collided with Ron's invisible form with a shower of sparks.

"Well welcome back, dears," she addressed Harry and Hermione, to the background of Ron's pained groans. "If you guys want to come inside and sit down until the potion wears off, dinner will be ready soon."

Hermione followed Mrs. Weasley's retreating back toward the house, stepping on Harry's feet several times. After stashing their brooms in the storage shed, they entered the house to the delectable smells of beef and pudding.

"It smells wonderful Mrs. Weasley," she complimented, stomach rumbling after not having eaten for so long. "Do you need any help?"

"No thank you, dear," she answered. "Considering you can't see your hands, it's probably best that you just relax until you're visible."

Once Ron found his way back into the house, he set up the chessboard and Hermione watched a very interesting game where the pieces did not know where to shout advice up to because the players were invisible. In fact, they blatantly refused to do what was ordered until Ron picked up his queen and threatened to throw her in the fireplace.

At dinner that night, fully visible again, Hermione positioned herself beside Mr. Weasley at the table. After a few pleasantries, and as they were digging into the roast, Hermione broached the topic that had been on her mind.

"Mr. Weasley, have you ever heard of a spell or a potion that can turn a Muggle into a witch or a wizard?" she asked, tentatively.

"Is this something that Fred or George put you up to?" he inquired, rolling his eyes. "I swear those two come up with some new way to dupe people-"

"No, nothing like that," she replied quickly. "It was just something I came across referenced as a legend in a book I was reading. It sounded rather far-fetched but it was something I had never heard of before."

"No, Hermione, I haven't heard of such a thing before either," he said, puzzled. "Do you have the book in mind? I could take a look at what was written."

Hermione thought of the ancient book, hidden in her purple bag.

"Oh I actually left it at home," she lied glibly. "Maybe sometime in the future, though."

The conversation steered away from talk of spells and legends when Bill and Fleur appeared, sitting at the table with plenty of wedding talk. Hermione tried to pay attention to the endless speculations about weather patterns and floral arrangements but her mind kept drifting.

_So it's not common knowledge among the wizarding community, either. There has to be some explanation for why it was taken out of the history books. I've seen copies of older editions of _Hogwarts: A History_ and there isn't even so much as a reference point to this. _

"Hermione? Are you feeling alright, dear?"

"What?" Hermione jolted. Looking around, she realized that everyone at the table was staring at her with expression ranging from extreme concern to puzzlement to amusement.

"Fleur had just asked you if you would relent to being one of her bridesmaids," Bill explained. "One of the girls unexpectedly had to cancel and you would fit best into her dress."

"Oh, of course!" Hermione exclaimed with feigned enthusiasm. "It would be an honor."

"_Tr__é__s bien_," Fleur trilled. "I am so 'appy you would do zis for me, 'ermione."

"Of course, Fleur, anything to help," Hermione said. "I guess I'm just a little tired."

"And no surprised there!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. "It's getting late and you guys have had a very trying day. Off to bed!"

Harry and Ron were ushered upstairs into the attic, and Hermione was led by Ginny to her small room. After listening to a few of Ginny's summer stories, the pair said their goodnights and Ginny flicked the light off.

Hermione's dreams that night were troubled with visions of her parents and Voldemort. She slept fitfully and, after she was woken up by a nightmare of Voldemort forcing her parents to drink jugs of glowing red milk, decided that the slowly rising sun was a sign that it was acceptable to go down for breakfast. When she descended the stairs, she found Mrs. Weasley standing in front of the window, a cup of coffee clutched in her hand. Reluctant to break the older woman's peace, she turned to go back up the stairs when she stepped on a creaky board.

"Oh Hermione, dear," Mrs. Weasley greeted. "Oh my, you don't look well. I noticed that you were fairly quiet and reserved at dinner last night. Ron told us about your parents. How are you holding up?"

"Fine!" Hermione chirped, a wide smile on her face. "My parents are safer where they are, and when this is all over, I'll be able to fetch them and bring them home."

"Are you sure, dear? If something is bothering you, it helps to let it out."

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said, genuinely touched by her concern. "It's just been very trying these last few days."

Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth to reply but they both were distracted by the myriad of owls that flew through the open window. Hooting importantly, each stuck out a leg and took off the moment they were relieved of their burdens.

"Looks like the book lists for Hogwarts this year," Mrs. Weasley observed.

She opened the envelope marked "Ginny Weasley" and read through the list, eyes narrowing as she got further and further down.

"These books seem more focused on the Dark Arts than normal. I'm not even sure if I can get these books in Diagon Alley."

Hermione tore open her own packet, and bit her tongue when a small piece of paper bearing the Headmaster of Hogwarts' seal was foremost in the stack of documents.

_Ms. Granger,_

_I look forward to seeing you again next term. I am keeping an active interest in your progress and look forward to helping you in your future education._

_Severus Snape  
Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

"What's that you got there, Hermione?" Ron's voice asked over her shoulder.

He snatched the tiny note out of her hands before she could object and slowly read it.

"Snape is the new Headmaster?" he asked, squinting confusedly. "And he's keeping an eye on you?"

"What's going on, Ron?" Harry asked, shooting a quick grin at Hermione.

"Snape is running Hogwarts!" he replied, disgusted. "It looks like he's got a crush on Hermione or something."

"He does not!" Hermione shot back angrily.

"Then he's trying to convert you to the Death Eaters' side, You-Know-Who's side!" Ron announced dramatically, not knowing exactly how right he was.

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," Mrs. Weasely admonished. "He's probably just acknowledging Hermione's talents in the classroom."

"Guess it's a good thing that we're not going back for next term," Ron muttered under his breath, out of earshot of his mother. "I don't think I could stand that git for 8 months."

Hermione giggled nervously before spooning some porridge into her bowl, grabbing a couple of pieces of toast. Before they completed their breakfast, however, there was a booming knock on the front door.

"My goodness, who could it be this early in the morning?" Mrs. Weasley questioned, patting her hair and removing her apron.

The trio finished their breakfast quietly, trying to eavesdrop on the low toned conversation in the front room. A few minutes later, a tense Mrs. Weasley poked her head back into the kitchen.

"The three of you, in the living room now," she barked, face pale.

They shot out of their seats at her tone and found a very grizzled and fierce looking man in impeccable wizard robes standing ramrod straight in the middle of the room.

"Ron, Harry, Hermione, please meet the new Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour," Mrs. Weasley introduced tensely. "He had _kindly _requested a few minutes of your time this morning. Alone."

Mrs. Weasley bustled out of the room and they heard sounds of dishes clinking in the sink as she washed them. With a quick wave of his wand, Scrimgeour set a soundproof barrier on the room.

"Now, I'm sure you're wondering why I'm here," he began, making sure that the kids were seated on the couch in front of him so he could tower over them. "It seems that Dumbledore has left each of you something in his will. However, he made it a specific stipulation that you were only to receive these items if you promised to return to Hogwarts for your last year of education."

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**Author's Note:** Thank you everyone that reviewed, favorited, alerted, or even just read the last chapter! Reviews are very much appreciated as they help me gauge how well the story is progressing and how well I'm able to make my points. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3: Imparting Knowledge

Chapter 3: Imparting Knowledge

"What?" Ron exclaimed, shooting to his feet and startling Scrimgeour.

"Shut up," Harry hissed, tugging him back down on the couch.

"Did the three of you have other plans?" Scrimgeour inquired, his face darkening and eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Not at all, Minister," Hermione answered calmly. She planted a hand on Ron's knee and gave it a swift warning squeeze, glaring when he gave a small yelp as her nails dug into him.

Still glaring at them warily, Scrimgeour pulled a rolled sheet of parchment out of his robes. Unfurling it with minimal flourish, he began reading.

"_The last will and testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, First Class, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. I hereby award the following items of my estate to the named individuals or associations."_

Here, Scrimgeour paused, running a thick finger down the parchment. Apparently Dumbledore had a long list of processions because by the time he found their names, about 3 feet of parchment pooled at his feet. Hermione caught names such as Griselda Marchbanks, Aberforth Dumbledore, and _Bathilda Bagshot_.

Hermione gasped, reaching for the parchment but, thinking better of it, drew her hands into her lap again. Realizing that everyone in the magically soundproof room was staring at her, she did the only thing a girl could do in that situation- she broke down into tears. Burying her head into Ron's shoulder, sobbing like the world was ending, she snuck a peak at what Dumbledore had left the ancient historian.

_To my dear friend, Bathilda Bagshot, to return what you have so graciously bestowed upon my family in a time of tragedy and mourning, I will unto thee the original, hand-scripted copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ to keep safe until you see fit to bestow further._

Realizing that she had been silent for several moments, she let out a particularly loud wail and threw her arms around Ron's neck.

"Hermione? Hermione, knock it off, he's gone," Ron muttered a few seconds later, patting her back with increased heaviness.

"Ow, Ron," Hermione grumbled, pushing herself back and rubbing her shoulders. "Learn how to comfort someone, won't you? I was trying to see who else was on the list besides us."

"Who did you see?" Harry asked, leaning around Ron to look at her.

"Bathilda Bagshot," she answered. "It looks like Dumbledore wanted to give her a book, but I didn't manage to make out the rest."

As Harry and Ron discussed Hermione's lie, she tried to think of a means of using this information to convince them to go to visit Bathilda with her. The ancient author had to have information about the spell; she wrote the only book in existence seemingly that referenced it after all.

"I think we should to speak with her," she interrupted. "She was obviously someone close to Dumbledore and she's older than anyone I can think of. Maybe she'll know more about Horcruxes in general and Voldemort's specifically."

Harry and Ron stared at her, blankly.

"Well it's not like we have any other good leads right now," she added, sighing.

"Unfortunately, she's right, Ron," Harry said, leaning back into the worn couch cushions. "Bathilda's as good of a start as we have right now."

"Where did Scrimgeour go?" Hermione asked, looking around the room.

"He broke the spell shortly after you starting your crying jag and almost ran out of the room," Ron sniggered. "He said something about asking mum for a cup of tea while you recovered."

They shared a quick laugh before lapsing into seriousness again.

"So Dumbledore wants us to stay at Hogwarts," Harry sighed. "That doesn't really fit in with what we wanted. How are we supposed to find the Horcruxes if we're trapped inside of a castle that's apparently now controlled by Death Eaters?"

"There has to be a reason why Dumbledore asked us to stay," Hermione reasoned, stomach roiling. Everything depended on what Harry decided, for she knew that Ron would follow his lead. "I think we should go back to Hogwarts. Professor Mcgonagall is still there and we may be able to convince her to get us out of Hogwarts every once in a while if we need to."

"That's a big if, Hermione," Harry reasoned. "If she won't, then what will we do?"

He stood and paced the room.

"But you're right, Hermione," he said finally. "We don't know why Dumbledore wants us to go back, but we have to trust him."

He turned back to the two on the couch with a smile.

"Besides, there are ways out of the castle that are undetectable," he added. "You in, Ron?"

"To tell you the truth, Harry, I wasn't looking forward to wandering around Great Britain trying to track down clues," he answered with a sheepish grin. "Hot food and a warm bed sound like much better options, especially if Dumbledore wanted us there."

"Well then let's call Scrimgeour back in here to see what Dumbledore has left us," Harry suggested.

They followed him into the kitchen, where a terse Mrs. Weasley was sitting at the kitchen table with a rigid Minister of Magic.

"Ahh Miss Granger," he greeted, standing abruptly. "Are you ready to commence with the reading?"

"Yes Minister," Hermione replied.

Once they had resettled in the front room and the soundproof barrier restored, Scrimgeour found his place again in the will. Clearing his throat, he continued to read:

"_To Miss Hermione Granger, I bestow up on you my favorite collection of short stories, _The Tales of Beedle the Bard. _I hope you are able to derive as much enjoyment and enlightenment from them as I have."_

Scrimegour handed Hermione a small, plain book. Hermione couldn't help but to compare the worn cover to the elaborate and antique cover of the history book she had hidden in her bag. She opened its pages and skimmed through the first few pages, but looked up when Scrimgeour started reading again.

"_To Mr. Ron Weasley, I bestow upon you my Deluminator, a device of my own design. May it inspire and illuminate your future."_

Scrimegour handed Ron a silver device, which he immediately clicked a few times. 3 orbs of light, one for each click, flew out of the Deluminator and hovered in the air, circling Ron's head. He poked at one curiously.

"_To Mr. Harry Potter, I bestow upon you the first Snitch you caught in your time at Hogwarts. May it always be a reminder to you that the most straightforward manner may not always be best. Also, I bestow upon you the Sword of Godric Gryffindor under the condition that it does not leave school grounds. May it inspire the Gryffindor in you."_

He peered at Harry over the parchment.

"As you can see Mr. Potter, I do not have the sword on me. Dumbledore decreed that it stay at Hogwarts and I intend to see it that way. As for the Snitch, here, take it, boy."

He thrust the Snitch toward Harry with barely concealed eagerness in his eyes, an eagerness which faded to disappointment when the Snitch dropped inert into Harry's palm.

"Is that all Minister?" he asked the fuming man.

Without further preamble, Scrimgeour rolled up the parchment again with a tap of his wand and swept to the door.

"The Ministry reserves the right to confiscate those items if it is deemed that you are using them in an inappropriate manner," he growled, slamming the door behind him.

"Wait, what?" Ron yelled, throwing open the door and repeating it toward the retreating back of the Minister of Magic.

"What did he mean by that?" he asked Harry and Hermione when Scrimgeour simply Disapparated.

"He meant that the Ministry will be monitoring us still," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes. "They've already lost control of the country. I wouldn't take their threats too seriously."

After much deliberation over the next couple of days, they decided to visit Bathilda Bagshot before Bill and Fleur's wedding. But first, they needed to get past a very protective Mrs. Weasley.

"Mrs. Weasley, there is something that we want to talk to you about," Harry began, sitting at the table one morning in front of her. "We want to visit Godric's Hollow one more time before we go back to Hogwarts."

"How are you going to manage that, Harry?" Mrs. Weasley asked apprehensively. "You-Know-Who is still out there and you know he's just looking for an opportunity to find you all."

Grateful that she hadn't outright dismissed the idea, Harry pressed on with the rehearsed argument.

"Hermione has been reading up on the Disillusionment Charm and we've all been practicing," he explained as Ron nodded fervently behind him. "She's better than either of us, of course, and we can take brooms again to avoid detection. We'll spend the day there, going to my parents' old house and visiting their graves, and be back before it gets dark."

"And that's all you'll be doing there?" Mrs. Weasley asked dubiously.

"More or less," Hermione said, sitting down next to the older woman and placing a hand on her arm. "This might be the last chance that Harry gets to see his birthplace. Please let us go."

Mrs. Weasley looked from Harry to Hermione before finally narrowing her eyes to Ron.

"Anything happens to these two, and you'll be sleeping with the ghoul for the rest of your life," she threatened him before turning to Harry with softer eyes. "Of course you can go, Harry dear. Just remember that danger is all around you. I'm sure that all of you have practice Apparating?"

At their collective nods, she continued.

"There has been an Anti-Apparation charm placed within a mile radius of the Burrow, but if you need an emergency transport, aim for the woods in behind the house," she advised. "There's a small 3 foot circle that's been left open for just that reason. Realize that there is an impassable barrier around it, so if you end up stuck there, dears, send your Patronus and we'll send someone to get you."

"Thanks Mrs. Weasley," Harry smiled, giving her a quick hug before leaving the room. Hermione followed him after a quick squeeze of her own.

"So we're leaving tomorrow then?" she whispered as they ascended the stairs to Ron's room.

"Yes," Harry affirmed. "We'll leave at first light. If we're lucky, we should reach Godric's Hollow by noon. Hopefully Bathilda won't be too hard to find."

"Hopefully," Hermione echoed wistfully. If they couldn't find the prolific writer, she might as well give up on this mission; she didn't know who else would be able to offer her any kind of information.

They spent the rest of the day practicing spells and hexes in the backyard, stunning several chickens and freezing a gaggle of garden gnomes in their tracks as they scampered across their paths. Hermione picked at her dinner, but even the delicious spread of meats and potatoes couldn't distract her from the importance of her mission ahead. She thought that nobody had noticed until Ginny spoke up later that night as they were preparing for bed.

"Is something bothering you Hermione?" she asked as she brushed out her hair. "You seemed to be really distracted and odd since you got here."

"I can't really talk about it Ginny," she replied, avoiding Ginny's searching eyes. "We all promised Dumbledore that we would keep this secret until the task is carried out." Or rather I can't tell you because Voldemort would kill my parents.

She could tell that Ginny was unhappy with her answer but, thankfully, she didn't press any further. Hermione had another restless night, but finally found some sleep around 2 am. She woke suddenly just as the sun was peaking above the horizon, knowing that, above her, Ron and Harry were doing the same. She peaked at Ginny and was relieved to see her still asleep. She really wasn't in the mood to answer any more of her questions.

Harry and Ron were sitting at the kitchen table, yawning and Ron was snoring gently with his cheek pressed to the wooden surface. Rolling her eyes, she poked him. Ron awoke with a violent jerk and a loud "I'm not sleeping!"

Grabbing their brooms from the shed, Hermione tapped each of them on the head and watched as they disappeared from sight. Unlike the invisibility potion, their brooms were still visible, even after they had mounted. Luckily, a quick tap of her wand solved that problem.

"That's reversible, right?" she heard Ron's voice say somewhere to her right.

"No, Ron, you'll be invisible forever," she sniped back.

A pebble rose off the ground and launched itself in her direction, missing her by several feet.

"Good thing we're not relying on your aim, Ron," Harry's voice laughed to her left. "Let's get going."

Following again the blue flag, they made their way to Godric's Hollow. Harry and Ron had a bit of fun racing an airplane.

They landed behind an abandoned house where they stashed their brooms. They then snuck through the village toward where Bathilda's house was thought to be on the outskirts of the village. Heaving a sigh of relief when "BAGSHOT" was printed on the mailbox outside, Harry knocked on the front door. It opened shortly after to reveal a slight, elderly woman, squinting out into the daylight above small reading glasses.

"Is someone there?" she asked sharply, astonishingly lucid for her age. "If you're here to sell me vanishing potions again, I told you I don't need them."

"Professor Bagshot?" Harry asked quietly.

"Yes, who's there?" she answered impatiently. She pulled out a cane from under her robes and whacked the seemingly empty air in front of her.

"Ow!" Ron exclaimed when her cane collided with his invisible form. "Watch where you swing that thing!"

"It's Harry Potter, Professor," Harry hastily explained. "I'm here with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. We'd like to have a word with you."

"Potter, eh?" she repeated, seemingly surprised. "This I wasn't expecting. How do I know it's really you and not some Death Eater that wants inside my house so they can kill me?"

"You penned the first edition of _Hogwarts: A History_ in 1947, a book which you had spent almost your entire life researching," Hermione said breathlessly. "You taught Ancient History at Hogwarts for a brief time when Professor Binns had his existential crisis when he discovered that he had become a ghost."

"Well if you are an imposter, you're a well researched one," she muttered. "Come on in."

She opened the door wide enough to allow them to file in one by one, shooting a counter-spell that left them entirely visible again. After giving them a swift inspection, she nodded her head and led us, leaning heavily on her cane, to a spacious and sunny parlor.

"Well, might as well sit down," she mumbled. A quick wave of her wand produced a fragile looking tea set, upon which was painted a family of toads happily hopping around the saucer pond.

"Watch how you drink," Bathilda warned. "If you're impolite, they're liable to squirt hot tea in your faces."

She took a tiny sip of the steaming liquid before setting down her cup with a delicate _clink_. Leaning back in her armchair, she peaked her fingers together and stared.

"Professor Bagshot, we had wondered if you could tell us about Horcruxes," Harry said, uncomfortable with the silence and the intensity of her penetrating gaze.

"What do you want to know about them?" she asked, playing with a tassel on her shawl.

"Anything you can tell us, really," Ron eagerly replied. "We don't have much to work with. We know generally how they're formed, but we're hoping you have a book or an instruction manual or something."

"You think that someone would be foolish enough to leave a book on the makings of Horcruxes lying around Mr. Weasley?" Bathilda asked slowly, eyes narrowing at the rapidly reddening Ron.

"Well, I, that is to say Professor," he fumbled, until she raised a weathered and wrinkled hand.

"As it is, I do have something that may help you, Mr. Weasley," she stated, rising with help from her cane. "Wait here with Mr. Potter while I fetch it. Ms. Granger, could you help an old woman?"

"Oh, of course, Professor," Hermione exclaimed, startled to have been singled out.

She followed Bathilda through her house and into a vast library, twice the size of her sitting room and covered from floor to ceiling in what looked to be priceless first editions and one of a kind books. Hermione took one look around the room and promptly sat down hard onto the floor.

"What's wrong with you, girlie?" Bathilda asked, an amused glint in her eyes.

"It's just…I mean I have never…It's just overwhelming Professor!" Hermione breathed, eyes wide as she took in the sheer volume of material around her. "I don't think I could read everything in here if I spent the rest of my life doing so!"

"Albus always said that you had a penchant for books and learning, although I never knew it was this strong," she chuckled. "Get up, sweetling, before you ruin your pants. I actually asked you to come with me because there's something that our late Albus asked me to pass down to you before he died. Somehow that clever man knew that you would seek me out. It's such a shame that the first edition of _Hogwarts: A History_ was apparently stolen from Hogwarts. I wouldn't put it past that greasy little snake, Severus Snape, to have done so."

As she spoke, she tottered over to a particularly short shelf sitting near the rear of the room. Tapping it with a series of staccato rhythms, the air shimmered before what appeared to be a bubble quickly receded.

"I put a hex on all my favorite books after that happened," she explained, perusing several titles through her glasses. "You never know who might be desperate enough for money or even information these days. Ahh, here we are."

She pulled a tall, thin volume from the middle shelf entitled _Everlasting Amour_ and handed it to Hermione. The instant her hands touched the rough leather cover, a feeling of dread and intense sadness washed over her, causing her to accidentally drop the book onto the thick, dusty carpet.

"Yes, most people have that reaction when they first come into contact with that particular book," Bathilda said, picking up the abused tome and holding it out to her again. "Go on, take it. You won't feel anything this time, I promise."

As foretold, the book sat limply in her hand when she handled it for a second time.

"What was that?" she asked the ancient historian warily.

"Sometimes, when books are written under heavy duress, the pages will pick up the emotions of the author and imprint them onto itself," she responded. "Surely you've come across a book or two in your time that, when you ran your hand down its spine or opened its pages, either made you immediately put it down or filled you with darkness. It's especially potent on handwritten books."

"Because the writers have had so much continued contact with the pages themselves?" Hermione surmised.

"Exactly, dearie," Bathilda replied.

"Is this the book that you wanted to give to me?" she asked, staring dubiously at the now inert manuscript.

"No, Ms. Granger," the historian replied. "That is for your friends, to aid them in their quest to undo He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's evil work. I ask that you do not share it with anyone else and, when you finish with it, have it sent back to me."

"Of course. We wouldn't think to keep such a precious and unique work."

Hermione looked at Bathilda expectantly, deciding to ask when the woman didn't.

"What was it that you had for me, Professor?" she asked.

"Before I give this to you, tell me girl, how did you come to find out about the curse that turned Muggles into wizarding kind?" Bathilda inquired amiably. Hermione, on the other hand, was caught supremely off guard.

"I…I came across it in my readings at Hogwarts," Hermione replied, sweat beading on her brow. "It was in one of the books in the Restricted Section in the library."

"Really? Which one?"

When Hermione could give no honest reply, Bathilda sighed, seeming to shrink even further into herself.

"I was a fool for putting it into writing in the first place," she murmured at her cane. "Albus was correct in advising me to remove it from further copies. He, like the founders, saw what damage could be done and thought it was best hidden, away from those that would abuse it. It's why I gave that first edition to him in the first place. Answer me truly, girlie, do you seek this power for yourself?"

"Absolutely not!" Hermione exclaimed, biting back the explanation for exactly why she needed it. "How did you know I knew?"

"That doesn't matter, girlie. What does matter is that you decipher this."

Bathilda handed Hermione a hefty, black leather case. Undoing the ties, Hermione pulled out the first leaf of heavy, yellowing parchment.

_Salazar Slytherin. Year- 991, the Founding of Hogwarts and my untimely dismissal._

"It's…It's-" Hermione stuttered.

"Slytherin's personal diary," Bathilda finished for her, staring grimly at the paper.

"But, the rest. It's-"

"Blank."


	4. Chapter 4: Hard Truths

Chapter 4: Hard Truths

"How is this supposed to help me?" Hermione asked blankly. "Professor Dumbledore sent me all the way here to retrieve a blank set of parchment?"

A loud _thunk_ reverberated around the room when Bathilda's cane came into contact with Hermione's head.

"Use that brain of yours, girlie. By the dragons, Albus made you sound so bright in his letters."

"Why have these not been given to a historical society?" Hermione inquired, rubbing the top of her head. "I have never in my reading come across any references to a diary still in existence written by Salazar Slytherin himself. These must be worth a fortune."

"They are priceless, yes," Bathilda replied carefully. "In the right hands, they might to prove a disheartening lesson. In the wrong hands, they might prove disastrous. If it wasn't one of Albus' last requests to me, I would never even think to bring it out again. In these rolls of parchment, should you find a way for them to reveal their secrets, you might find the answers you seek Ms. Granger. I don't know why you're looking for the spell, nor do I wish to know, but be warned that any who has sought it has never come to a happy conclusion."

"I'll keep that in mind, Professor, thank you," Hermione replied gratefully.

"I suggest you put that up, Ms. Granger, before your friends start asking odd questions about it," Bathilda reminded her. "Maybe in that ingenious bag you have with you."

Hermione stared at her, surprised.

"How did you know I had it?" she asked.

"I may be old, sweetling, but I'm far from senile," she answered cryptically, leading the way out of the library. "You might want to consider making the handle longer so you can carry it on your shoulder. It looks less conspicuous that way."

As Bathilda led the way back toward her front sitting room, Hermione took her advice, elongating her purse handles and slinging it over one shoulder so that her purse rested against the opposite hip. It definitely felt more secure to her. When Harry and Ron spotted them, they leapt up eagerly.

"Did you find it?" Ron asked.

"Ms. Granger has it right now, and I would like for it to remain with either one of you at all times," Bathilda said.

After a few more pleasantries, and Ron getting squirted in the eye by a rather fat frog when he snorted into his teacup, they rose to leave.

"Thank you very much for your help, Professor," Harry said gratefully. "I'll send Hedwig back with the book when we've finished."

"Good luck, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger," she replied with a slight nod of her head at each of them. "You're going to need it."

Hermione couldn't help think that the last part was directed specifically toward her, nor could she shake the feeling of foreboding that originated from the memoir stashed in her bag.

Harry and Ron, however, were extremely eager to get back to the Burrow to peruse their latest acquisition.

"It'll be great, Harry," Ron said enthusiastically. "Dumbledore has never let us down before."

"Yeah," Harry agreed with a smile. "We're finally getting somewhere. You still have the book Hermione?"

He looked behind him at his rather quiet and somber friend.

"Yeah, here why don't you keep a hold of it," she said, passing the book to Harry. "You're more used to holding onto the broom with one hand than I am. Wouldn't want to drop it, now would we?"

He chuckled and took the book, but dropped it with a startled shout.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Ron asked urgently. "Did the book bite?"

"No, nothing like that," Harry murmured, still staring at the dark journal. "Did you-?"

He looked to Hermione for affirmation.

"Yeah I felt the same thing when Bathilda first handed it to me," she replied.

Looking around, they realized that they had attracted quite the crowd. Besides the usual wizards in brightly colored robes, Muggles were mingled in as well, staring curiously at both the wardrobe and the trio gathered around, what appeared to them, to be a rather unremarkable book.

"Oh, um, we're rehearsing for a play!" Harry declared to them, smiling weakly. He gingerly poked at the book with his shoe, and picked it up again.

Still muttering, the crowd dispersed, some thinking that perhaps Harry Potter really was off his rocker. They ran to where their brooms were hidden, Hermione tapped them each on the head, and they took off as soon as possible once the coast was clear.

The ride back to the Burrow was a tense one for Harry. He still had problems shaking the feelings of trepidation he experienced with the book; it was almost the same feelings he had when he came into contact with Voldemort. He thought he heard a small crunching noise behind him, but when he turned around he saw only empty air. Brushing it off, he led the way back to the Burrow as the sun set behind them.

"Hermione, we're ready for you to lift the spell now," Ron said impatiently once his feet hit solid ground. He looked around when she didn't reply. "This is not funny, Hermione."

"Hermione? Are you here?" Harry asked, perplexed. "Hermione! Answer me!"

"Do you think she got lost?" Ron asked, groping the air in front of him.

His hand connected with Harry's face and knocked his glasses off.

"Ouch! Watch where you wave that thing," Harry muttered, on his knees trying to find his invisible glasses.

"_Accio glasses!"_ Ron declared. He let out a yelp when one of the earpieces hit him in the eye.

"This is getting us nowhere," Harry sighed. "Do you remember the incantation to make us visible again?"

"No, but mum might," Ron muttered blinking his sore eye. He found Harry's glasses on the ground and tucked them into his shirt pocket. He tapped the air with his wand and watched as it rippled before the Burrow was revealed to them.

A loud crack reverberated throughout the countryside and a nervous looking Mr. Weasley appeared.

"Who's there?" he asked, brows furrowed and wand pointed steadily in front of him.

"It's us, dad!" Ron shouted. "Harry's here too, but Hermione's missing."

"Why are you still invisible?" he asked. "And what do you mean Hermione's missing? I thought you were going to stay together."

"She was with us when we left Professor Bagshot's house," Harry said, as Mr. Weasley cracked him on the head and his hands reappeared. "But when we landed here just a while ago, we noticed that she was gone."

"Are you sure she isn't just hiding?" Mr. Weasley asked, although even he sounded skeptical.

"Positive," Ron replied, his face slowing displaying the growing panic inside of him. "What if she is lost? How are we going to find her?"

"Relax, Ron," Mr. Weasley said soothingly. "Hermione's a smart girl. She can find her way back here. It might just be that she was delayed."

He waved his wand again to reinstate the protection around the Burrow.

"You guys go on ahead," he urged. "Molly has dinner waiting for you guys. I'll wait here to see if Hermione comes back. She probably just fell behind and will be here in a few minutes."

But when he finally returned to the Burrow an hour later and joined the crowd around the table, Hermione had still not shown up.

"I want to go find her," Ron declared, pushing back his chair. "We've waited long enough, and obviously if she got left behind, she'd have caught up by now."

"Where do you propose to look, Ron?" Mrs. Weasley asked sharply. "We have no clue where the poor dear is and we don't even know if-"

She broke off with her hand pressed against her lips. Ginny put a comforting arm around her shoulders.

"Harry, you can't sit here and wait," she said determinedly. "As clever as Hermione is, you know how hard it is out there alone. I agree with Ron- we need to go out and look for her."

"Right," Harry agreed. "How many brooms are in your shed now?"

"We have 5," George replied, looking off toward the dilapidated building. "Six if you count your Firebolt. We could go off in pairs, but I honestly don't know what good it will do."

"It'll give us something to _do_," Ginny replied. "George and Fred, you take a pair and head for the woods. Go scout around that protection-free zone and see if Hermione has attempted to Apparate herself back here. Ron and Bill, you two circle around the perimeter of the barrier and the Burrow. See if she's trying to get back in somewhere. Harry and I will fly back in the direction of Godric's Hollow. Maybe Hermione is just lost along the way."

"I think I should go with Harry-" Ron began before Ginny cut him off sharply.

"Harry and I are the fastest fliers of the six of us, and we'll make better time. Mom, Dad, Fleur, if you guys can wait here and try patrolling around inside the barrier and just look for signs of her. You never know what someone like her could do."

Harry looked at her sideways, a small grin on his face, but nodded.

"Everyone knows what they're doing?" The group around him nodded. "Then let's go."

But before they reached the door, a glowing silver otter bounded into the kitchen.

"Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, I hope you can come and fetch me from the woods," it said chipperly in Hermione's voice. "I seem to have gotten lost along the way. Thank you!"

The 9 of them stared at each other, astounded.

"Well, she'll never hear the end of this," Ron stated, grinning smugly.

_3 hours previously_

"Ok guys, make sure that you stay in tight formation and keep away from the airplanes this time," Hermione ordered as she struck the boys on the head. "We don't need to risk anything."

She mounted her broom as soon as she had gently tapped herself invisible and pushed off. As she sped up to catch up to the blue flag, she hit a solid wall with an "_oof"_ and a _smack_. Her arms and broomstick were suddenly visible, the tip of which snapped off and hung by a few splinters. Stunned, she slid sideways off her broom and landed hard on the gravel road beneath her. Groaning, she became aware of a shadow looming over her.

"If you're quite done resting, Ms. Granger, the Dark Lord would like to have a word," a familiar, greasy voice wheedled.

"Professor Snape?" Hermione gasped, still winded from her fall.

"Correct," he sneered. He pulled her up from the collar of her shirt and grasped her arm. "Try not to wiggle too much."

Hermione vaguely registered the sensation of Apparation before stumbling to the ground again outside of a dark mansion. She watched from the ground as Snape pricked his finger with his wand and ran a thin line of blood along the gate of the high, black iron fence. It melted away into wisp and he once again yanked her to her feet and toward the front door. Hermione had little time to appreciate the magnificent artwork and décor of the foyer before she was pulled toward a side room. Doors flew open independent of human action as Snape stomped through the house. He finally halted outside of a door marked with a swaying snake head.

"Come in, Severus," a high voice emanated from behind the door.

Snape pushed the door open and thrust Hermione forward. She almost screamed as she came face to face with Lord Voldemort for the first time. His pale face glowed eerily in the dim light produced by candelabra on a table nearby; the rest of the candles were unlit and the blinds were drawn. The Dark Lord sat behind an elaborate wooden desk, elbows on the surface and long fingers laced together.

"Miss Granger," he whispered, almost reverently. "It is an honor to meet you at last. I have heard much of your accomplishments from Severus. I'm not sure if he told you, but it was on his advice that I sought out your assistance in this little matter."

Hermione was unsure what to say and completely unable to tear her eyes from his smooth, unnatural face.

"Answer the Dark Lord, Mudblood," a cruel voice screeched from a darkened corner. The pale, shriveled form of Bellatrix Lestrange slithered out from the shadows and stood with a hand at the corner of Voldemort's chair. "You are less fit to lick the slime from his boots than to stand before him in insolence."

"Not so fast, Bellatrix," Voldemort replied casually. "We have treated her impolitely. Let me pull up a chair for you."

He waved his wand and a plush armchair was shoved directly into Hermione's knees, causing her to tumble backward into it.

"Now, let's get to business shall we?" he continued, leaning forward eagerly. "I know that you have been to Godric's Hollow and have spoken with Bathilda Bagshot. Did she tell you anything useful?"

He stared intently at Hermione as she fidgeted in her chair.

_Legilimens_, she thought. _Even if I lie, he'll know._

"Yes," she replied shakily. "I believe that she has given me the diary of the late Salazar Slytherin."

"Ahh yes, I had thought that she would have it," Voldemort replied with a slight smile. "Bellatrix, go fetch our guest some refreshments. Some tea, perhaps?"

Looking startled and then insulted, Bellatrix swept out of the room with a huff. Voldemort reached out a hand across the desk toward Hermione.

"Let me have it," he ordered, eyes once again boring into Hermione's.

She reached into her bag and pulled out the ancient journal. The instant that it touched Voldemort, however, he hissed and dropped it back down onto the desk.

"What magic is this?" he demanded, rising sharply.

"I don't know!" Hermione declared frantically. "I didn't have any kind of reaction to it like that."

At Voldemort's nod, Snape stepped forward and attempted to open the book. He was also repulsed and drew back a hand that appeared burned and blistered.

"An Ownership Spell perhaps," he suggested, looking down at his red palm with a mild interest. "Or maybe even some deeper magic is at work. If you would, my Lord, I believe the book to be in better hands with Ms. Granger. She obviously can handle it and, at Hogwarts, I will help her to reveal its secrets."

Voldemort stood rapidly and paced around the room, agitated.

"It seems that I have no other choice," he spat. "However, Severus, I wish for the book to remain with you. Whatever it could reveal is invaluable and I won't leave it in the hands of a careless little girl."

"As you wish," Snape acquiesced with a slight bow. He approached the book cautiously and tapped it with his wand. Brow furrowing when nothing happened, he tapped it again.

"It would seem that it is impervious to any spells to send or perhaps even to summon it," he said after a brief period of trying different spells. "I will personally see to it that it gets to Hogwarts safely, my Lord."

"Very well, Severus," Voldemort relented, settling himself into his chair again. "I have waited years for this particular magic to reveal itself. I can be patient for a time longer. See to it that she does not neglect her duties."

He once again glanced carefully at Hermione, as if questioning her.

"I'm surprised, Ms. Granger, to not hear any questions as to the status of your parents," he noted calmly. "Have you so quickly given up on them? Perhaps there is a place for you here among my Death Eaters after all."

"I haven't given up on them!" Hermione sniped. "I didn't think that you would tell me anything or let me see them is all."

"Well that's where you're wrong Ms. Granger," Voldemort replied. A knock on the door interrupted them. "Come in Bellatrix. Set the tea on the desk."

A brittle looking teaset was placed before him, the cups, saucers, and accessories all pitch black and emblazoned with the crest of house Black.

"Would you care for some, Ms. Granger?" Voldemort asked politely, pouring himself a steaming cup.

"No, thank you, I'm not thristy," she replied stiffly.

"If my intention was to poison you, girl, it would have been more than easy," he reassured her. "None the less, it is rude to keep a guest waiting. Bellatrix, will you show Ms. Granger to the dungeons so she can see her parents? Severus, go with them. Your best behavior now, Bellatrix."

His last sentence was almost sung at the glowing Death Eater who seemed positively thrilled that he was addressing her. She bounded out of the room, beckoning impatiently when Hermione didn't immediately follow.

"This seems to be the end of our meeting at this time, Ms. Granger," Voldemort said as she turned toward the door. "I eagerly await Severus's reports of your rapid progress."

She nodded at him and swiftly followed Bellatrix down the hallway and down a flight of stone steps. Snape, behind her, lit his wand to illuminate the way. The air grew damp, musty, and chilly as they descended beneath the sprawling manor. Hermione shivered from a mixture of anticipation and fear. She didn't know what state she would find her parents in and if they would even recognize her. Images of the horrors inflicted upon Muggles by Death Eaters filtered through her head, regardless of her attempts to push them out.

Bellatrix led them past several squalid cells, some of which already housed people. A few of the prisoners begged for water and one even dared to grab at Bellatrix's robes as she passed. The screams from the spell she shot his way followed them as they made their way further down the corridor. Bellatrix paused in front of a glass shielded cell and beckoned Hermione closer.

"Here are your filthy Muggle parents. Be glad that the Dark Lord has a use for you for now."

Hermione, nervous to the point of nausea, stepped up to the glass, fearing what state she would find them in. When she was finally able to take in what she was seeing, her legs gave out from under her and she sank to the cold stone floor.

Her parents were living in an exact replica of their house. In fact, it appeared that they were completely unaware of what had happened just a few days ago. Her father was sitting in front of the television watching the evening news while her mother fussed over a stew in the slow cooker. The setting sun in the kitchen window reflected the actual time above ground.

"You know, I'm considering sending Hermione a care package with some of her favorite cookies and her birthday surprise early this year," her mother shouted out to her father. "I'm a little sad we didn't get to see her off to school this year, especially since it's her last."

"I agree," he replied, turning off the TV and walking into the kitchen. "I'm in the same boat with you, really. It's a shame she had to leave so suddenly. But she does have important work to do."

"What are they talking about?" Hermione asked Snape, who was watching them with a placid curiosity. "Why are they acting like this?"

"The Dark Lord thought it might hurry you along if you knew that your parents were not being mistreated," he replied. "He said something about 'not being heathens' or something to that effect. Make no mistake, girl, that if you fail to please him, they will suffer for it."

Hermione walked closer to the glass, pressing both of her hands on the oddly warm surface.

_I'll get you guys out soon. I love you both._

"Ok, time to go," Bellatrix ordered, grabbing her arm with painful intensity and dragging her up the stairs.

"You know, Bellatrix, it might hinder the work she has to do if you damage her wand arm beyond repair," Snape suggested snidely, chuckling when Bellatrix released Hermione's arm instantly with a hateful glare shot back toward him. "I think I know how to find the front door. I'll escort her the rest of the way."

Snape ushered her back up the stairs and pushed her out of the front door.

"Enjoy the few days of relaxation you have left, Ms. Granger," he said, sneering down at her. "I suspect you will be very busy upon your return to Hogwarts. Oh, and, I hope you know your way back to the Burrow."

Snape shut the door slowly, a smirk prominent on his face. When Hermione heard the light click of the lock sliding into place, she turned toward the gate with a sigh. Realizing that she had left her broomstick behind in Godric's Hollow, she concentrated on the Burrow and disappeared with a light _pop_.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thanks for reading and reviews are very much appreciated!


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